Turkish Oil Wrestling
by thenotsofabulouskilljoy
Summary: TurGre one-shot, my version of how Turkish Oil Wrestling got its name.


It was yet another beautiful day. Sun shining brightly on the brunet man as he takes his daily stroll through the city, a beloved calico resting in the crook of his right arm and purring happily. He reaches down absently and strokes her head before scratching lightly behind her ears. Of all the cats he had, the nation was sure this specific feline came around every day. It was hard to tell, what with the thousands of cats that he had, but he called it instinct.

"Ah, Heracles! Fancy meeting you here." A deep voice called out from one of the stalls of the stores by him. Said man turned his head with a slight narrow of his eyes. He had been walking in a shopping mall on his border. Yes, it was in Turkey. No, he had honestly not expected the country to be here as well.

"Sadiq.. I didn't think you'd be here at the same time I was." The cat in his arms mewled before leaping up and bolting down the street. The nations watched before glancing back at each other, knowing a proper challenge was in order here.

"I could feel you cross over my border and it has been so long since we've competed! Is that such a crime?" Turkey grinned widely before continuing to speak. "I came up with a grand new competition for us to try! Come over to my place, I'll show you! It's all the rave nowadays."

The Greek nodded once as he brushes his white shirt clean from the cat hair from his calico, well, as much as he can before he gives up and simply follows Turkey into the alley. "I hope it's something easy and quick, I wanted to take a nap after I got back home. I sure hope my calico makes it back safely.." He mused to himself, not truly expecting a reply.

"That depends on your strength, Greece. I'm going to ruff you up!" The elder cheered as he stares down the dirt path before them. "Say, I bet you I can make it to my house before you can! You know the way, right? Five miles up this trail. Are you game, Heracles?"

"Of course." As lazy as he could be, the country never passed up a challenge from his rival. They lined up evenly and counted to three before sprinting down the trail. Their boots kicked up dust, disturbing a fair amount of bugs and lizards as they raced head-to-head. Occasionally one would take lead before being overtaken by the other. In terms of speed, Turkey was faster but his stamina was lacking where Greece excelled in stamina but his speed wasn't the best.

By now the house was in sight and both of the men were coated in a fine layer of sweat, their chests heaving from the effort of their running. In a final burst of energy, Greece pushed ahead and won the race by a mere second. The younger brunet leaned against the wall of the house before grinning victoriously at the other and turning to head inside.

Turkey narrowed his eyes and moved in after him, kicking off his boots by the door before stripping down to his pants and white shirt. His coat was tossed over the back of a chair along with his hat and scarf. Perhaps it was a tad too hot to be wearing so many layers.

Heracles settled down on the couch with a sigh to catch his breath. "Tell me about this challenge we'll be engaging in. I'm curious." He mentioned nothing of the race beforehand, saving his breath.

"It's called Turkish Oil Wrestling. The two competitors oil each other up before wrestling and you have to wear a kisbet. It's simple! Just establish an effective hold of the other person's kisbet and you win. There are no time limits. Surely you've heard of it?"

A soft nod was his reply. "Yes, I have heard it in the shopping mall we were at. The loser kisses the winner's hand as a sign of respect. I accept your challenge."

A grin lit up the elder's face. "I'll get the olive oil. I have an arena room for this specifically. Last door on the right on that hall there." He gestured to a side-hall branching off the main entrance and the Greek nodded before heading into the room. A few of the kisbets hung on the wall and he noticed a bench for clothes. He stripped down fully and folded his clothes before pulling on the brown material, uncaring if Turkey walked in. He didn't and instead joined the other brunet a few minutes later with two bottles of live oil. The door shut with a soft click and the Turk set down the bottles before shamelessly changing, folding his clothes as well.

"I'm surprised it's taken off, not many people have heard of it quite yet. The people in the mall only knew since I've held a few shows of it here." Turkey sighed a bit before popping open a bottle. "Come here Heracles."

Greece grunted in response and opened his own bottle, shuddering as the cool oil is lathered onto his skin. He returns the favor and covers the tan man in front of him thoroughly. Quite a few times the men have to bend or twist at odd angles to lather the other, put in nearly suggestive positions. They ignore it out of courtesy.

Soon they're covered head to toe and move out onto the middle of the room. "Ready, Greece?" The nation sighed tersely before nodding. Immediately they charged, shoulders pressing together as they struggled to gain purchase. They slipped more often than not but eventually Turkey slid his ankle behind Greece's and swept his leg, sending the nation crashing to the mat. He followed him down and hooked a leg over his elbow at the back of the knee as he lay on the paler nation's stomach.

The oil made their motions sloppy but Greece fought back with just as much fervor had it not. He twisted and pushed at the Turk's shoulder before wrenching his leg away. Upon breaking away he used the elder to push away, thanking the olive oil for allowing him to slide so easily. No words were exchanged as they stood again and walked around in a small circle before charging again. Greece dove under Turkey's outstretched arms at the last moment and took out his legs with relative ease. Sadiq grunted and braced himself with his forearms before shifting up and flopping onto his back.

Greece turned unsteadily and dove back at Turkey, eyes widening as he sees the change in position. He slid directly between his legs and shoves out his hands, preventing their heads from colliding. He didn't even notice his eyes were squeezed shut until he slowly opened them only to be met with a smug grin.

"Well Heracles, if you felt like that you could've just told me." His booming laughter echoed around the room and he hooked his ankles behind the younger before flipping their positions, his hands scrambling to Heracles' kisbet.

"What!?" His cheeks burned pink as his back was pressed into the mat and two large hands shot for his only piece of clothing. The nation flailed a bit when he felt warm hands on his lower back, trailing to the kisbet. "Stop that!"

"What ever do you mean, Greece? I'm merely wrestling you." He grinned deviously, a hidden meaning behind his words. The brunet beneath him struggled a bit by pushing on his chest to no avail. Turkey had him pinned.

"You know, this is quite a compromising position you're in Heracles.." He mused in an almost innocent tone before leaning in a bit and meeting the confused emerald orbs widen in realization.

"You wouldn't dare." The Greek's eyes shot down to Sadiq's mouth before back up to his eyes, noticing as he moved ever closer and their breath mingled. He could smell the coffee on his breath and smirked inwardly; he was like a damn coffee machine.

"Oh but I would." Turkey grinned smugly before kissing the brunet below him harshly, lust driving the motions. To his utter surprise, Greece responded eagerly to the intimate act and wrapped his arms tightly around the elder's neck.

Quite some time later, the challenge had been thrown out the window. Their kisbets were discarded sometime ago along with any formalities. For now they were strictly lovers, joining together for the same carnal pleasure that had overtaken their minds. The oil became useful in the action itself, easing the rocking of their hips and accenting the pleased grunts from the men.

Neither noticed a meek knock on the door, only when the heavy wood creaked open to reveal a flustered servant did they pause and stare in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

The boy, a teenager by looks, recoiled at the sight and yelled. "What the hell!?"

"Well," Turkey began, "Have you not heard of Turkish oil wrestling?"


End file.
